“Yes,” she whispered.I know. But how do I know?She started toward the dining area and the massive kitchen beyond it.Stone ovens. Pizza.She glanced at the table meant for eight.Pepperoni and Italian sausage.
Leela wandered to a door, opening it to confirm what she already knew.A wine cellar.She started thinking about the brands, how she’d picked a red wine—one of Balthazar’s favorites.
He frowned, not understanding how she knew all this. It was as though their minds had melded in some way, sharing memories that were his, not hers.
But as she continued her exploration, leading him to the staircase at the back, up to the second and then the third floor, he started to wonder if they weretheirmemories. Because she knew every room, recognized them before seeing them, and took him directly to the space he considered his own. To the bed she was sure she’d slept in.
“Impossible,” he told her. “We don’t bring women here.”
It wasn’t a rule so much as a courtesy. Balthazar would never have brought Leela to this room, even if for a fun week of sex.
Lizzie would be an exception for Jay now.
Just as Jenika had been one for Alik.
But Balthazar and Luc had never taken an exception.
Yet some part of his mind recognized this moment.Leela laughing. Her hair flowing freely. That come-hither smile on her lips. So much life. So much love.
She spun around to face him as though experiencing the same thoughts, except hers were about him.His chocolate eyes, grinning with wicked intent. His dimples flashing enticingly. His fingers removing his tie.
Only, he wasn’t wearing one.
Just gray sweatpants.
But his fingers brushed the column of his throat anyway, entranced by the description in her thoughts.
He removed his tie. Black. And hung it…She went to his closet, finding it exactly where she remembered against the wall. Her fingers ran over the silk before glancing at the midnight shirt he would typically pair with it.He wore this…
“What memory is this?” he asked.
“It’s a fantasy,” she whispered. “But it feels… it feels so real…” Her blue-green eyes sparkled as she turned toward him, the sun outside hanging at a midday position in the sky that hit his windows just right.
Leela strode toward them, her nimble fingers moving over the locks to open them wide. Winter in Venice was usually cool, and today was no exception. But the chilly afternoon air barely brushed his overly hot skin. His mind was lost to Leela’s memory, her knowing movements throughout the room unnerving and yet hypnotically beautiful.
She stepped out onto his balcony terrace, her thoughts confirming every detail.
Then she turned and paused, her silhouette in the daylight almost too much. Her blonde hair hung in slightly damp waves over her shoulders, where his white dress shirt clung to her feminine curves.
Perfection.
But in another life, she was wearing a white summer dress that caressed her hourglass figure and showcased those rosebud nipples.
He pictured it for the briefest of seconds, then shook his head, confused. “What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, biting her lip. “I don’t understand any of this. Just that… that I’ve…we’ve…”
“Yes,” he replied, stepping toward her, his bare feet barely feeling the plush carpet beneath his soles. “Yes,” he repeated, his palm encircling the back of her neck and tugging her to him. “Yes.” He couldn’t say anything else.
Because there was nothing else to say.
He had to know if this was true. If this was right. If this wasreal. Because he felt lost to a dream that shouldn’t exist. A fantasy that wasn’t his own.
And yet, it was happening.
To him.
Tothem.
